


The Mill By The Black Waters

by schierlingsbecher



Category: Gravity Falls, Krabat | The Satanic Mill - Otfried Preußler
Genre: AU, Human Bill Cipher, Krabat!AU, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating Might Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5210996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schierlingsbecher/pseuds/schierlingsbecher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War has the land in its unyielding grip, many have lost their families, homes and hope. Dipper, a Wends' boy, wanders the lands with his sister Mabel and his best friend Wendy, begging and doing day's work. When a voice calls him to the small village of Blackcholm in his dreams, he's too curious not to go.</p><p>The Krabat!AU nobody asked for and that I'm writing anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pudding (pudding_and_poison)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pudding_and_poison/gifts).



> I just fell into this fandom some time ago, but I really needed to contribute, so here's my attempt. If you don't know the story of Krabat, you might wanna google it, it's really good - the Otfried Preußler one is the most known I think.
> 
> I'm writing this as a side-project, next to FOUR other things, so please don't expect updates to be fast or regular. Sorry for the incovenience.
> 
> Also, English is not my mother tongue and so I can't really stay in the language of the time (18th century). I translate the names of places like I want to, sorry for people who don't like that. Reviews and comments are highly appreciated, I actually don't know what I'm doing.

“ _Dipper_!”

The voice was persistent, a bodiless sensation.

“ _Dipper_!!”

Around him was nothing but darkness, enveloping him tight and cold.

“ _Dipper_!”

His name less rang through the void than rolling over his skin, making him shiver and sweat. 

It called him, tugging at his very being.

“ _Come to Blackcholm. Come to Blackcholm and search for the Mill. Your harm it won’t be_.”

Suddenly, a sound cut through the dark, loud and echoing in his ears – it was like wings flapping, fast and close to him. He almost felt the brush of feathers on his cheek. More voices, rough and croaking joined the first, resounding all around him.

“ _Obey the Master’s voice. Obey the Master. Dipper, obey_.”

He startled awake with his heart hammering against his ribs, cold sweat running down his forehead and back. Straw clung to his moist skin and Dipper started shivering immediately – winter reigned outside and big holes in the walls of the haymow let icy wind run over them, the straw only doing so much to keep him warm when he was soaked.

His gaze searched for another person up here in the mow, but the dim light of the rising sun revealed that nobody crouched in the corners or towered over him – Wendy was still snoring next to him, face buried in hay and Mabel slept on her other side, arms slung around Waddles.

A deep sigh came over Dipper’s lips and he turned on his other side, now wide awake.

It was the third night in a row he was woken by the same dream, the same feeling of somebody watching him bright and burning in his chest. It always felt so real; too real to just be a dream, to just be arising from his imagination.

He’d tried to brush off the feeling of discomfort it had left the first night and rolled every little detail of it over and over in his head the second, still not coming up why his mind held all that for him as soon as he went to sleep.

Dipper couldn’t help but wonder whether he should simply go and see for himself what Blackcholm held for him. After all, now, the few days between Christmas and New Year, was the time that people said signs and wonders were to happen. But if he left, he’d also have to leave his sister and Wendy behind – Blackcholm was a small village at least three days’ march away.

Not for the first time since he’d had the dream, he wondered why Blackcholm of all places. He’d never been there. The village was neither known for its market nor welcoming parish; the name only came up when people wanted to travel north, the bogs there were dangerous and the road through the village was the only safe passage.

Dipper rubbed at his cheek.

Maybe leaving Mabel and Wendy wasn’t that bad. Two mouths were quicker fed than three and people were much more willing to let orphan girls into their homes for a night’s rest when they were not accompanied by a boy. Of course Dipper wouldn’t be there anymore to take the small chores people had to offer for a loaf of bread or sometimes some Heller, but the girls could get by some days without him. Also, around this time of the year, they normally dressed up as the Three Kings so people would give them sweet prunes and honey bread, but again, as Maria and angel they’d be off just as well until Dipper returned.

A soft, low voice arose in the back of his mind: And if he didn’t?

He shook his head, straw entangling with Dipper’s locks. Why should he not come back? If the dream was right, something good was waiting for him in Blackcholm. And if it was just that – a dream – he’d return at New Year.

What could go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time is an illusion

With cold wind biting his cheeks, nose running and his shivering hands grabbing his clothes tighter with ever sharp gash of air, Dipper didn’t know whether leaving Mabel and Wendy behind really was the best idea.

He’d left them in the hay that morning, still sound asleep, before the sun rose to full morning – that was almost two and a half days ago. Since then, he’d passed a lot of villages, asked for the way more times than he remembered ever doing to not get lost on his way in the upcoming snow storm.

Fingers and toes numb, clothes wet from the snow, Dipper really wished he’d stayed behind. No good was worth dying of an illness, but at this point, there was no turning back.

Blackcholm had been as simple and eventless as people had told him, rows of houses, a little church, a small market, nothing not like any other hamlet he’d seen with Mabel and Wendy. Making his way down the road over slippery snow, there hadn’t been many people to ask for the mill and the first man he’d found even answered that there was no mill in Blackcholm. An elderly woman had finally nodded, wide, unblinking eyes fixed at Dipper. “Down at the Coselmire,” she’d said, “But if I was you, I wouldn’t dare going there. Devilish mires those are.”

It might’ve held Dipper back. He might actually have considered that warning, if you wouldn’t hear that kind of stories along the way in every village of less than 200 living souls. People told the strangest things to make travelers visit their taverns or persuade them to buy their odds and ends. Dipper had heard his fair share of tales and myths.

Well, he thought, carefully making his way into the mire, trying to avoid wandering too deep into the soaked dirt, maybe that dame had at least found the right word to describe. The forest here was thick, keeping the snow on the crones of the trees, but also the mud from freezing completely. Dipper’s legs were drenched in wet dirt up to his calves. The cold biting at the wet clothes soon had his skin burning and his heavy breath fogged in front of him. But a mill surely couldn’t be that hard to find, could it? People needed to go there, bring the grain and get the flour.

So why wasn’t there a path through the dangerous forest? Why did it look like he was the first person wandering these routes?

Lost in his thought, Dipper let his attention slip for a second and his foot caught on a root, sending him into the mud. Groaning and swearing, he tried to push himself up again, hands slipping on the cold slush.

Heavy frustration made his stomach turn and Dipper grinded his teeth. This wasn’t worth it. He’d left his sister and best friend behind because… because of a voice in a _dream_ telling him to search for a mill in a godforsaken forest.

Finally finding safe footing Dipper pushed himself up, peeling his wet clothes from his arms. It was no use. He would go back before he could freeze to death, before he’d become a subject for the tales in Blackcholm. It might take him hours; he didn’t exactly remember where he took turn to avoid being swallowed by the mire and night had fallen quickly, leaving the thick forest in almost complete darkn-

The wind stopped howling through the treetops, the swishing of small branches subsided and the world around Dipper went quiet.

Silence.

It felt almost unnatural, the calmness too thick for the air and a shiver ran down Dipper’s spine, leaving a prickling trail on his skin. He froze in his motion, the hot sensation of a piercing stare burning in his neck. He stopped wringing at his wet clothes.

Slowly, he turned on his heels.

Deeper down an almost walkable path of gravel - it could be tiredness or the cold playing tricks on his mind - Dipper thought he saw a light flickering right there. Pure and white, almost like star-shine. Only that the trees here stood too close to each other to let any light fall through. And Dipper couldn’t recall seeing anything that… _glowing_ ever in his life. It was almost like embers lacking the fire. Like it… throbbed.

A thousand memories of fairy tales whispered to him in the depths of nights brushed the brim of his consciousness – friar’s lantern, ignis fatuus, the living lights, luring people deep into the swamps and mires. The impression of a warning didn’t stay and Dipper’s hand reached out of their own accord, his mind urging him to come closer, touch the light.

Legs shaking, Dipper moved forward, eyes fixed on the goring brightness in front of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gravity Falls is going to end... it's sad, but it will be great. Just promise me you guys will keep drawing, writing and reading in the fandom. 'Cause I am nowhere near done with these characters. NOwhere.
> 
> Not proof read. Any of you guys up for betaing this for me?

Dipper made his way deeper into the woods, his feet becoming slowly numb from walking over cold dirt for so long and the damp clothing adding to the chill settling in his guts. If he wasn’t lost before, he surely was now – he wasn’t familiar with these woods and the few memories of his way into the forest already blurred with the new scenery unfolding right before his eyes. But as he followed the light on and on, Dipper found the worry seemed to fade into the back of his mind. He was on a way, wasn’t he. He wanted to go where the brightness brought him; wherever that was.

He went on and slowly, the earth provided better footing and his aching feet didn’t sink into mud anymore. Still, despite the distance he’d already brought behind himself, the light didn’t come any closer. 

The moist air carried the heavy smell of the pines around him. It reminded him of the countless times he’d enjoyed it with Mabel bouncing ahead of him, whistling or singing and Wendy, walking right behind him with her beautifully lazy smile playing on her lips. She was as much of a big sister for Mabel and him as somebody could ever be, she’s been in their lives ever since Dipper could remember.

He and Mabel hadn’t been older than a few weeks when somebody dropped them on the doorstep of the poor-, work- and orphan house in Lohsa. They’d never wondered why – most people couldn’t even feed their one child these days, let alone raise twins. It was also very likely their mother had died in childbed, so, Dipper thought, their father wasn’t able to keep them. Maybe he didn’t want to either. He would never know for sure, so thinking about it too much seemed of no use.

Wendy had been there too with her brothers. She cared for Mabel and Dipper in a way the fostresses never would and could, using the time when her brothers were taught in simple math or reading, so they’d have a chance to become craftsmen. Girls were expected to become maids at best and when Dipper got the sparse lessons, he made sure to teach Wendy and Mabel the bits he had learned as best as he could. They’d sneak out of their beds in the middle of the night and Dipper would write in the dirt of the small backyard to give the girls words to practice reading.

When Wendy’s brothers were taken away, the nurses started talking about marrying her off to the recently widowed blacksmith; she’d decided to run away, taking Mabel and Dipper with her despite them being barely 10 years old. Mabel had once asked her why she’d run away – she would’ve been well off marrying a man with income, but as Wendy had started to shake all over, tears welling up in her eyes. They’d never seen Wendy this way, so they hadn’t asked again.

Now she was 18, no chance of marrying anyone as the new law said one had to be able to provide for a family if they wanted to marry. Not that Dipper thought she wanted it any more than she wanted it four years ago. All the three of them had long since decided on wandering the lands, begging, singing or working for their meals. Living for the day seemed much more promising than thinking about a tomorrow that was always clouded by uncertainty.

Although they sometimes didn’t know how to feed themselves and slept in the streets more days than not, it was a peaceful life they had led – _wait, no_ \- led. Dipper was gonna go back, right.

Right?

Dipper blinked quickly, his eyes must be getting tired – for a second he thoughts he saw the light wavering.

A slight rushing sound underlay the steady thud of his steps, coming from the direction the light wafted to. With the roughness of frozen grass rasping against his feet and the rapidly rising roar of water, he felt strangely reminded of the choir of voices ringing in his ears after the dreams that had led him here.

The air suddenly felt thicker around him, heavy with ozone licking in sparkling trails over his skin. Dipper’s heart beat in his throat.

When the light stopped moving, Dipper stumbled over his own feet, startled. The trees suddenly opened to a clearing, illuminated by the unnatural pure glow that looked much brighter and bluer than it had on their way through the forest. Stumbling closer, Dipper saw that the light was in fact many small ones, forming a circle of strange symbols Dipper couldn’t make out from where he stood. Their gleam reflected from a narrow river and outlined an old house right next to the waters – a watermill. Over the river led a wooden bridge, barely wide enough for two crossing it next to each other.

Nervousness rushed through Dipper, mingling with the cold and making him feel light-headed. He could taste the spark in the air. He could feel his rush of excitement pound behind his ribs.

No wolf howled in the distance and no mouse rustled through the fallen leaves. Folding his arms tightly in front of him, Dipper stepped onto the clearing, waiting for any sign of movement anywhere near the trees. Something had to happen. Anything. The light brought him here, the dream brought him here. Frantically, he looked left and right, rubbing his arms and fiddling with his clothes.

If only Mabel was with him. If only Wendy could tell him to be calm.

Dipper turned his head again, searching. A silent gasp escaped him. At the end of the bridge… there was somebody. A figure.

He was painfully aware of the trembling of his hands and his labored breaths fogging right in front of his face.

Dipper could swear nobody had been there a moment ago, the clearing had been deserted. Now, there stood a dark scheme; it had to be the miller.

Cold sweat formed on his forehead. Had he been so blinded by the strange lights before? Was the cold getting that badly to him? It was like the person had appeared from thin air. But that was crazy talk. Hesitantly, Dipper walked up to the figure. It didn’t move or show any sign of attention. 

Dipper bit his lips, but kept going. No matter whether he was here for this stranger or not – he would have to ask to spend the night at the mill. It was long past midnight and the way back might kill him. Finally standing in front of the man, Dipper tried to keep his body from shivering, even as an uneasy flutter settled in his guts. He didn’t come all this way to turn around at a queasy feeling.

The man was taller than Dipper and wore a wide cloak, the hood covering the upper half of his face. Only a broad, sharp grin was exposed and a shiver ran down Dipper’s spine. He tried to say something, but his mouth was dry, his breath only rasping in his throat. Though he couldn’t see the other’s eyes, he felt a piercing stare bore into him.

His heart actually stopped beating for a moment.

Then, the stranger raised his voice. He spoke quietly, but to Dipper, his words sounded clear like they were hissed directly into his ear.

“Looks like you finally found your way through the woods…”

The odd question let Dipper raise his head a little as he nodded a little awkwardly. The grin only widened at that.

“You are a very obedient boy. And I can tell you, I like my apprentices to be obedient. Makes it much easier to teach them. Do you understand that, Dipper?”

Goosebumps crawled over Dipper’s skin as his name rolled off the stranger’s lips so easily. He asked himself why the other knew it, but after those strange dreams, a night wandering through the forest and following a ghostly light, it wasn’t the strangest thing that had happened to him. At least he finally seemed to have found the place he has been called to. Dipper nodded again, more certain this time.

The miller barked out a laugh.

“I see, I see, the day’s been long, the night even longer. Let me make it short for you: I want you as my apprentice, kid. Stay at my mill and I can teach you two crafts. One that might feed you and your loved ones someday, that puts bread on the table and coins in your pockets. The other, much more delicate and much more dangerous, might give you anything you could wish for, if you’re brave enough to ask for it.”

The man tilted his head a little, obviously looking Dipper over. “So, what will it be? Shall I teach you the mill’s craft, or everything else as well? Surely you didn’t come all the way to decline my generous offer.”

Dipper gulped heavily, taking a moment to let the words sink into his mind. Not much of it made any sense. He came all that way to be an apprentice? But… _but the dreams- but the light…_ Hadn’t he come for… more? Sure, in his dreams the voices had only told him it won’t be a harm, but after all the effort he’d put in coming here and the almost magical-

Dipper’s eyes widened involuntarily and he swore he heard a low hum coming from the miller.

_Magic._

Was that it? Was that the second craft? It couldn’t be, could it? Magic was something out of fairy tales, the song’s that you sang to hungry children to put them to sleep. Only fools believed in magic. Yet… hadn’t Dipper thought it was the time for wonders to happen? What was a wonder other than magic? And what could these dreams have been, how could a light guide him through a forest if it wasn’t… magic.

A part of him told him not to believe any of his stupid thoughts. Better men than him have been put into an asylum for that sort of foolishness. Still the other part, now glowing with curiosity and anticipation, gained the upper hand and urged him to take the deal.

What bad could come out of it.

The miller’s craft he had for sure. And to get an apprenticeship as an orphan was almost impossible. Nobody wanted an unlucky lad in their home. It might be his only chance.

And… magic.

Dipper looked up to the hidden face of the miller. For a moment, the lights from the mill wheel made it look like a gleaming eye looked down at him.

_Oh, what the heck._

“Everything else as well… Master,” Dipper said, voice steady and shoulders straight.

The miller laughed and extended a hand, oddly enough the left one, and Dipper took it firmly. The touch felt too hot on his palm, almost burning against his freezing flesh.

When he spoke again, the miller’s voice echoed over the clearing loud and sharp.

“Welcome, Pine Tree.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear normally I can write, I don't know what's wrong with me.

This night, Dipper didn’t dream.

At least he thought he didn’t.

Around him was nothing but thick darkness, layered around him into eternity, shielding him from everything else; from anything in the outside world. It didn’t feel bad. In fact, it felt comforting and welcoming. Washing off the exhaustion from the journey of the last days, the worries and doubts, letting all the bad thoughts drip off of him surely was the right thing. Why had he even worried in the first place? What was there to worry about if he felt that safe and warm and he was enveloped by glooming heat?

What was there to be concerned about?

What was there to fear?

Through the warmth, something brushed over his face and touched his cheek like the lightest kiss, ran over his closed eyelids. Light.

Pink and orange, the soft beams of the early morning sun danced over his skin and let Dipper open his eyes slightly. Somehow, the snugness of the dream still lingered on his body. He hummed lowly in his throat and felt a deep breath escape his lips. He hadn’t felt that relaxed in a long time.

Thankful for the good night’s rest, Dipper pulled his arms close to his torso and felt the wool blanket tickle his arms as he reached up to rub at his tired eyes. In moments, he’d hear a roaring snore from Mabel, or Wendy murmuring in her sleep. They would get up and pull the straw from their hair and-

Wool blanket?

His heart skipped a beat and Dipper opened his eyes.

He didn’t stare at the dark roof of the hayloft. Instead, he saw a wooden ceiling, made of thick planks. Right above his head, somebody had painted a Pine Tree with chalk. As the word crossed his mind, it seemed like a small bell started ringing in the back of his mind. Pine Tree. He’d heard that just last evening.

Pine Tree.

A figure in a dark cloak.

White dust and glowing lights, brighter than anything he’d ever seen.

The miller.

With a force that made his head spin, his memory came back to him.

He wasn’t in the hay anymore. That was long gone – it had been days. He’d made his way through villages and woods to follow the voices, follow the lights through the woods and almost freeze to death before he found the old mill, the river and the glowing wheel. And the miller. He’d offered him an apprenticeship. Learn a craft and everything else as well. Obey the Master’s voice. Magic.

A stinging pain formed behind Dipper’s temples and it only worsened as he sat up. The soft light suddenly seemed too bright and Dipper tried to bury his head in his hands to shield himself from the morning, from whatever the day would bring.

Yesterday night, he’d promised to stay at the stranger’s mill to learn and work. He’d shaken his hand and Dipper still remembered how strangely hot the miller’s palm had been. He’d followed him into the millhouse and was told to go up the stairs and sleep in the empty bed. Not wanting to disobey the Master’s demands on his first evening already, he’d done what he was told, although he hadn’t felt tired at all, anticipation and curiosity burning in his blood. However, as soon as he’d sat down on the bed, Dipper had been too exhausted to keep his eyes open any longer and fell asleep before his head had hit the small pillow.

Lost in his memories, he drew in a sharp gasp as a hand touched his shoulder. Scrambling away from the contact, Dipper looked up into the face of a boy that was a little older than him – maybe as old as Wendy had been. No, as Wendy was. His hair was black and his face pale, the soft beginning of a beard shadowing his chin. He looked down at him and Dipper’s head now throbbed in earnest, shock making the ache worse. Nervously, he chewed at his bottom lip, unable to say or ask or shout any of the things racing through his mind.

When the boy spoke, his voice was already raspy like an adult’s tone.

“Who are you?”

Should he give a fake name? He did that once in a while when people in a village didn’t want to offer work to ‘the beggars from the east’ or if he, Wendy and Mabel were about to do something very stupid. But now he had no reason to not give his real name, had he? He was in the miller’s house, he’d been invited.

At least that’s what he thought. Torn, he decided to tell the truth – it wouldn’t be a faithful beginning for whatever there was to come.

“Dipper. Who are you?”

The dark-haired nodded, before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Call me Robbie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I feel like this sucks hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ♥♥ ~ I'm schierlingsbecher on tumblr, in case you wanna speak "in person"


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